Freddy vs Jason:World WAR 2
by The Lobster's Claw
Summary: Official sequel to Chris Vegvary's FvJ:WAR. Freddy is not dead yet; he has a new plan, one that creates uneasy alliances and a new bloody war for the ages...
1. They always have their plans

_**Disclaimer(s):I don't own Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers, the Creeper, the Tall Man, Candyman, Pumpkinhead, Pinhead, Chucky, Leatherface, The Prowler, or The Miner. Anything else that is copyrighted by someone else is obviously not mine. Only disclaimer I'll ever post, so you better be happy. If you are not, all I can say is that you should start praying...**_

_**M'kay, so this is the official sequel to Chris Vegvary's Freddy vs Jason:WAR. Don't look at me like that! Vegvary said we fans could make a sequel. I quote:**_

"_**Of course, if some of you out there think there is something bigger, I suggest you get to work writing it so I can relax and read it."**_

_**I will briefly recount the events of that story here, but just to be sure, read Vegvary's fic first to understand it all. Also, read The Burning Of The Prowler, the The Burning and The Prowler crossover, that I wrote and which bridges WAR and this. It's only nine chapters, is finished, and you can easily find it because it's by me! So what are you waiting for? Get off your ass and read those two stories first! Don't come crying to me, saying you don't understand what's going on. And yes, I will be using zeroes to separate different POVs, because this website doesn't let me use line-breaks, asterisks, or s.**_

_**And don't be afraid of feeding me reviews.**_

**Freddy vs Jason:World WAR 2**

It was difficult to believe that Freddy Krueger was actually happy after the recent turn of events, but he was. Of course, this was because only Freddy himself knew of his plan; this time, he knew better than to think small.

When he had first come across Jason Voorhees in Hell, he had turned into Jason's mother Pamela, and put his first plan into motion by telling him that the kids in Springwood, Ohio need to get killed. Jason had readily listened to his "mother", not knowing that the real reason he had been resurrected was so everyone could think Freddy had come back for more, and therefore, fear of him would be spread. With more power, Freddy was eventually able to come back, but then his whole plan was thrown out the window by one little hitch.

Jason could not stop killing.

After he had gotten tossed around like a ragdoll and humiliated by Voorhees, that little blonde bitch Lori Campbell and her moron boyfriend Will Rollins had killed him once he was back in the real world, sending him right back to the depths of Hell.

It wasn't long, though, before Freddy met another killer in Hell, the hook-handed, bee spewing Candyman. With Candyman's help, Freddy was able to get some bizarre winged monster called the Creeper to break into Will's dorm room at Springwood University and solve the golden puzzle box called the Lament Configuration, and he was able to escape once the rift between realms opened. Just before that, Freddy had stabbed Candyman in the back for getting too big for his britches; or so Freddy personally thought.

Once he was back, Freddy had gone back to the dream world and had instructed the Creeper to fly to Haddonfield, Illinois to break the infamous Michael Myers out of a maximum security prison-whose security was not so maximum for a body part eating monster-before they had come across some weird and really tall old man in a suit who was able to control some incredibly weird floating silver balls and appeared to be immortal. With those three under his command, they had set out to find and squash Jason for good.

And yet, Freddy's plan still couldn't get past phase two. Candyman was summoned back into the real world and had not only allied himself with a living doll named Chucky and the face-wearing and chainsaw wielding Texan going by the alias of Leatherface, but worst of all, Jason Voorhees himself. Candyman had been smart in recruiting Jason for his own personal revenge scheme, and Freddy had lost precious time in fuming over Jason not being at Crystal Lake when he got there.

As if having to track down Candyman, Jason, and their two friends wasn't enough, he was also being hunted down by the Cenobite Pinhead, who actually served the realm known as the Labyrinth, which was ruled over by the pleasure god Leviathan; the only reason he ever monitored Hell was because he found that the tortures committed by the demons upon the damned souls to be pathetic, so he wanted to show them how it was really done. The eight foot tall vengeance demon Pumpkinhead was also sent by Satan to help pinhead take back Freddy at all costs.

The three factions had collided in Oklahoma City, with Pumpkinhead killed by the Creeper-though Freddy had no doubt that he had already been resurrected back in Hell-and that asshole detective named Hobbs had killed Freddy in defense of Lori and Will. Before that, he thought he had killed Jason, and had gotten cocky and had revealed to the Creeper, that old man, Myers, and everyone else in hearing range that he had just used them to kill Jason. Of course, he had failed to do that, and so it was all for naught.

But Freddy was _still _not dead. In his final moments after Hobbs had shot through his jaw and head, he extended his consciousness and quickly tried to find someone similar to him. He had found just the right person in the form of Cropsy, another severely burnt killer who had come to Camp Stonewater in New York to off the little brats that had burnt him. With his consciousness now within Cropsy, Freddy's presence gave the man nigh invulnerability, a healing factor, and superhuman strength. Cropsy had eventually wandered into the town of Avalon Bay, New Jersey, where he met a pitchfork wielding, World War II fatigue wearing killer who looked to be ready to start a massacre of his own. The Prowler.

Cropsy and The Prowler had fought all the way into the small Canadian town of Valentine Bluffs, where Cropsy had cornered The Prowler in an abandoned mine. It looked like Cropsy was about to finish him off, until out of nowhere, a man with a pickaxe and dressed in heavy mining gear-with a gas mask to boot-tore through Cropsy and left him as easy prey for an enraged Prowler. After slamming the pickaxe through Crospy, The Prowler tossed his body into a dirty stream. Little did he know that the stream went southward, leading to Camp Crystal Lake.

As Crospy drifted towards Crystal Lake, Freddy revealed himself to Cropsy in his subconsciousness, telling him to find Jason and kill him once he came to Camp Crystal Lake. With that, he left him to go find some more candidates fro his plan.

Freddy couldn't help but marvel at his plan; unlike his previous two plans, it did not involve getting any power through the spread of fear, as after the battle and destruction at Oklahoma City, any information about him that the authorities in Springwood had tried to cover up would already have been spilled due to public pressure. And this time, there would be no tracks for anyone to follow.

He was going to find more serial killers and project himself into their minds while they slept, telling them to go kill Jason while promising them power, just like he had done with those idiots Michael Myers and the Creeper. Once they came face-to-face with each other and Jason, though, they would most likely fight each other for their prizes, and then there would presumably be just two of them left. Afterward, there would be only one killer left, standing over Jason's corpse. Freddy would then appear before them and congratulate them, before killing them and absorbing their soul to gain even more power from their natural killing skills.

The reason he couldn't kill Jason with his own hands was because even if he came back into the real world with enough power left over from the dream world, Jason was still one tough customer, and Freddy had learned the hard way that facing Jason one-on-one was tantamount to suicide. Plus, if word got out that Jason was finally dead at Camp Crystal Lake and there were no other bodies, everyone would know that it was Freddy's doing; Pinhead and Pumpkinhead would try to drag him back to Hell, Lori, Will, and Hobbs would try to kill him for good, and Candyman, Michael Myers, the Creeper, and that old man would all love to get a taste of Freddy's blood.

He would then command three more strong killers to finally kill Lori, Will, and Hobbs. Since they were just three humans, it would be easy to off them before they could find out about Jason's death. Freddy would then kill those three killers and gain power from their souls, and once that was done, he would work his way through and kill Candyman, the Creeper, that old man, Pinhead, and Pumpkinhead. If Chucky and Leatherface tried to get involved, he had no qualms about taking their souls as well-if Freddy hadn't already used them before for either killing Jason or his three normal enemies. Once he had all their souls, his power would increase by a million times, and Freddy would finally be able to do what he had always dreamed of doing:turn the whole world into his Elm Street.

_Screw those retarded dream demons!_, Freddy thought to himself. _What's the fun in merging the real and dream worlds when you could turn the whole world into your personal death camp?_

Cropsy was already heading towards Crystal Lake, and Freddy knew who he would be choosing as his next "contestant."

_Oh, things are gonna get __**real **__damn interesting!_

Freddy couldn't hold back his laughter any longer.

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The Prowler was just barely able to limp his way towards the park bench, located in Blackwood Park outside the city limits of Avalon Bay. He could only imagine the chaos currently going on in his town; when he had been planning to exact revenge for the original Prowler's death, he had cut the power lines. He chuckled at that.

His throat still burned after his long and bloody fight against that insane burned man. In his head, he thanked that gas mask wearing man for appearing out of nowhere; if he hadn't, he would be dead right now.

The Prowler leaned over and clutched the right arm of the bench, before he slowly sat down. After almost two days of walking on foot and fighting, he warmly greeted the rushing sleep.

Slipping into subconsciousness, he remembered talking to the original Prowler; talking about the old man's experiences in the second World War.

"_You wanna tell me what it was like at Omaha?"_ he asked.

_The old man's face grew heavy with worry, but also with remembrance. He bit into his lower lip._

"_I...I don't know. I-I've never told anyone before! Why should I tell you?"_

"_Come on, you know I'm the only in this department that cares about you! You're growing old, sir-it would be a shame for any human being's story to go untold just because of old age."_

_The old man look uncertainly at the door into his office. He got up and locked it completely, before he sat back down at his desk and looked at him._

"_Alright, I'll tell you! Just promise me that you won't tell anyone until I die. Make them feel horrible for not caring!"_

"_I'm listening" he said, leaning in closer._

Suddenly, The Prowler found himself on a sandy beach. From every direction, he was assaulted by noise. The beach became red with blood as men in old army fatigues were either shredded apart by heavy machine gun fire or splattered all over the place by explosions.

"MOVE!" a soldier behind him cried. As he turned, a crack ripped through the air. The right half of the soldier's face exploded, the bullet tearing through his right cheek before it exited through the bottom left of his neck.

"HEY! GET OVER HERE!" a voice cried out to him, all other noise dying down as the soldier shouted. Turning to face him, The Prowler saw him waving back to himself, telling him to come.

The Prowler ran towards the trench at breakneck speed. Bullets grazed the sand around him, mortars bombarded the position he had started in and grenade shrapnel flew past him and shredded other soldiers to pieces. He jumped down into the trench; surprisingly, the soldier who had called him was the only one in there at all. There weren't even any dead bodies.

"Glad you could make it" the soldier told him before he stuck his head out of the trench and fired his machine gun.

A horrid cry could be heard from above before a body collapsed into the trench. Several holes were in his chest and back.

Staring at the mangled body, The Prowler saw an armband on the soldier's uniform. It was mostly blood red, with a white circle in the center and a black swastika within that. It was obvious that the soldier was a Nazi, fighting to keep control of France.

However, he didn't have much time to study the corpse, as his observations were interrupted by deep, almost demonic laughter. Looking all over the place, he nearly soiled himself as he saw that the soldier had transformed into a man wearing a red and green striped sweater, a brown fedora, and plain jeans and work boots. However, the two things about him that stuck out the most were the scars on his skin, which looked horribly baked and twisted into gross markings. On his right hand was a large brown glove, the four main fingers adorned with razors.

"What? Not used to seeing a burn victim?" the man asked mockingly. The Prowler slowly lifted a finger and pointed at him.

"Yeah, that's me! Freddy Krueger, the Bastard Son Of a Hundred Maniacs, the Springwood Slasher, the Man Of Your Dreams...and now, I can add "Guy Who Took One Big Shit On Oklahoma City" to my resume!" Freddy giggled. Suddenly, his expression turned serious.

"Or were you wondering about the burn victim remark?" he sneered. The Prowler tilted his head to the side quizzically.

"Well, I appreciate good talent when I see it; after all, I didn't just ask for Michael Myers' help on a whim! I saw your fight with that overcooked asshole from here in the dream world...Crospy, Crospy was his name! For a mere human like you, I gotta say, you can take a hit! Unless a miracle happens, that Cropsy guy is gonna be in Hell like I once was!" Freddy explained, his expression becoming ridden with anger as he said the last sentence. Then, just as suddenly, the anger left and he straightened out. It was as if though Krueger had a switch constantly being flicked within him.

"But that's not my point. Let's get down to business" Freddy growled.

"I need you to go to Camp Crystal Lake. It's in the same state you're in now; I'm sure you've heard the rumors about "Camp Blood." Once there, I need you to kill Jason Voorhees! Yeah, that hockey mask wearing bitch. If you do that, I'll give you the power to not just bring the old Prowler back, but then you two can share that power and use it to rule over a world where no veteran is abused any longer. If anyone decides to mock your fellow vets, then you can use that power to annihilate them with a wave of your hand!" Freddy offered.

"So...you in?"

The Prowler smiled behind the cloth rag covering his face. A world where no one dared to abuse the veterans of war anymore...a world he and him ruled over.

He nodded and shook Freddy's gloved hand. Freddy grinned a very toothy grin, one that even The Prowler knew was filled with malice.

"Then go forth, and don't waste my time!" Freddy hissed before he started laughing that mad laugh again, and the beach faded as The Prowler awakened.

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_**So Freddy's already got Cropsy and The Prowler; who does he want next? Come on, it should be obvious! And this sequel will go on. This is going to be my biggest story yet, so don't expect any quick updates, and don't expect short chapters. Thanks to hardrocker21 for helping me on getting this thing started. Fun fact:I actually got the idea for this story in 2012! Talk about development hell...**_


	2. For Whom the Bell Tolls

_**Disclaimers are in the first chapter's opening. Do not ask me for any more disclaimers; I will smack anyone who does so.**_

_**...Naaaaahhhhhh, just kidding! Or am I? I'll let you decide.**_

_**So, Detective Hobbs. Y'know, the cop from WAR who ended up killing Freddy and taking his hat, and who appeared in the spinoff, The Curse of Michael Myers (the remake, mind you). Chris Vegvary promised Hobbs would end up in more spinoffs, but that proved to be bullshit because Vegavry is one of those fanfic authors that has decided to vanish from the face of the Earth. Of course, I'm not saying Hobbs is going to appear in this chapter, so stop giving me that look and read the damn chapter!**_

Many liked to say that the world was never the same after 9/11. They believed that any sense of security and safety had been utterly demolished by the collapse of the Twin Towers and the deaths of two thousand nine hundred and ninety six people in flames and dust. Everyone believed that life would never be the same, what with the American government spying on its own citizens through their phones and airports not taking any more chances with travelers, touching them all over and forcing them to be scanned with X-Ray machinery to see if they had any bombs which actually could be found because they weren't plastic.

But in reality, after 9/11, nothing changed fundamentally; terrorism was nothing new, it was just never experienced on that scale. People were still people, stock markets reopened soon, and everyone put it behind them and went back to their boring and unfulfilled lives. Life as everyone knew it.

_Knew _it.

At five o'clock and forty three minutes on September 26th, 2012, the razor gloved dream manipulating serial killer known as Freddy Krueger-who had spent a great amount of time in the dream world, allowing him to carry much of his accumulated power over to the real world-entered Oklahoma City; following him was the man-eating and regenerating creature known as "The Creeper", the white masked mass murderer Michael Myers-who had previously been broken out of the Haddonfield Maximum Security Prison by the Creeper-and an extremely strange yet extremely tall old man who only looked human and seemed to control strange floating spheres made from incredibly complex and indecipherable alien hardware.

The moment Krueger and his murderous army marched into Oklahoma City, Krueger began warping the reality around everyone:the branches of trees reached out to form claws that tore people apart, gargoyle statues came to life and clawed at anything within their reach, and manhole covers flew up and sliced through any living thing that they were able to locate. Once Krueger's army made it into Oklahoma City, the Union Plaza completely collapsed due to unnatural tremors underneath the city. Flaming hail fell from the skies and first hit northern Uptown Oklahoma City, before quickly strengthening and eventually burning away ninety two percent of the neighborhood.

Eventually, the undead and hook-handed killer known as Candyman-who was summoned after having been betrayed in Hell by Krueger before having his name chanted five times in front of a mirror-led his own army compromised of the retarded face-wearing chainsaw murderer known as Leatherface, the almost mythical undead mass murderer named Jason Voorhees-who had joined primarily because he had defeated Freddy the first time-and the small doll that, through multiple witness statements, was claimed to have been the spirit of the strangler Charles Lee Ray.

The Cenobite named Pinhead and his accomplice, the vengeance demon most commonly known as Pumpkinhead, also entered the city, intent on taking Krueger back to Hell for escaping. The battle between the three parties had leveled most of SW 5th Street and resulted in the Creeper dropping Jason Voorhees from approximately seven hundred feet in the air and onto an office building; the sheer force of Voorhees crashing through the multiple stories and into the ground had caused a minor tremor that had destroyed the building, sending debris flying everywhere and killing dozens of bystanders.

Afterward, a U.S. Army Company had arrived to order the murderers to stand down, an order which they had not taken kindly to. The Creeper had flown into the air, grabbing one Blackhawk and shoving the blades through the windshields of the four other helicopters before throwing that Blackhawk into the Chesapeake Energy Arena, creating a fireball that had devoured most of the arena; the four other helicopters soon fell into the Company's own ranks, killing the a good deal of the men and destroying their three tanks in the process.

The Battle of Oklahoma City-for that was the best name anyone could give it-had caused the deaths of one thousand five hundred and nineteen people in the city and had wounded three thousand and sixty four. All seven of Oklahoma City's hospitals were so overcrowded that they were forced to turn away many patients, forcing them to riot for food, water, and medical attention. The riots quickly got out of hand, to the point that the National Guard was called in to help the Oklahoma City police crush the violence.

The Battle had caused an estimated seven billion dollars in damage to property and infrastructure and had closed Wall Street until Octoberer 8th and frozen most world markets until October 2nd out of sheer shock.

After that, no one could say that the world was ever going to be the same.

Humanity, which had lived for millennia under the presumption of scientific reasoning and logic, had been rudely awakened. Suddenly, humanity was forced to realize that the undead, killers that stalked you in your dreams, and demons and so much more were real, and there were other planes of reality that took humanity's imagination beyond the edge of indulgence and belief, realms that not only knew humanity existed but treated it as a snake would treat a mouse.

Only a few government backed organizations had sprung up in the three months since the Battle of Oklahoma City, mostly due to not being able to reverse engineer the silver spheres left by the tall old man and because it had been only a little while ago. The largest so far was the United Paranormal Encounters Foundation (UPEF) set up by the American government; its duty was to find paranormal individuals and events and, if the individual cooperated, to enlist that individual as an asset for dealing with other paranormal events. If the individual proved to be a threat, it was UPEF's job to eliminate that threat as quickly and safely as possible.

Several survivors of previous paranormal events who had been originally passed off as lunatics had been recruited by UPEF in the wake of the Battle. Edward Weinbauer, who had defeated the electrokinetic spirit of the Satanic heavy metal musician Sammi Curr, had been freed after almost thirty years in a mental institution and had been one of the first members of UPEF's Spiritual and Demonic Crises Divison, along with Charles and Joni Marshall and Alice Jarett.

Not many paranormal events had occurred since the Battle of Oklahoma City, save for the sudden appearance of Michael Myers in Japan, though even then, he had mysteriously disappeared after his murder spree on Halloween. But the world was no longer just going on, picking itself up and going back to normal; everyone was simply waiting, for they knew that if the world went on with peace for a long time, they had to be prepared:something even worse was coming.

And right now, it was too quiet.

_**Yeah, short, huh? Well, quit bitching, because it is October 31**__**st**__**, and I pretty much rushed this chapter. All I can say is:I told you so!**_


	3. Chains of Command

_**Stop procrastinating, is what I need to do, cause this chapter should have come out a while back this December. But ah hell, another short one, I guess; and guess who's back.**_

It still hurt to move his right shoulder even after three months; the bone still needed time to reconnect after it had been sliced into four parts. And almost every day, his head ached; he was lucky to get five hours of sleep. Every night, he heard his laughter, his taunts played over and over again, and every time he decided to wear the fedora, he heard his throaty chuckling from everywhere at once even though he saw nothing when he turned to look.

Three months after the Battle of Oklahoma City and his killing of the dream stalking serial killer Freddy Krueger, Darius Hobbs had been stripped of his former job at the Springwood Police Department, having been a detective who had been sent to investigate the murder of Will Rollins' roommate, who had been murdered by the Creeper, a winged and man-eating humanoid that regenerated by ingesting human body parts.

And instead of joining the unemployment line, the American government had hired him as the director of the United Paranormal Encounters Foundation (UPEF).

After the destructive Battle of Oklahoma City, the governments of the world and regular were forced to accept the fact that the supernatural existed, and so to make sure they would be prepared for a similar major paranormal threat as Freddy Krueger, several nations had started organizations to fully understand and combat the paranormal. UPEF was the largest so far, due to both the funding it received from the American government and because it was the first to be created.

Hobbs had been hired as director of UPEF as a result of his role in the Battle, where he had killed Krueger and had managed to drive off the other murderers. The government viewed both actions as stopping a greater threat to the human race and so it had chosen Hobbs unanimously; Hobbs himself didn't think the praise was necessary. Anyone with even half a brain cell knew that guys like Krueger and Candyman had to be stopped, was what he always said.

Hobbs didn't really have a choice, though, and so he begrudgingly accepted the stress that comes with running an entire government organization. In the three months since the Battle and UPEF's creation, he had heard the eyewitness reports that Michael Myers had jumped onto a vessel headed for Japan and had ordered a helicopter to Japan to intercept the white masked Haddonfield butcher. Japan's government had not taken kindly to Hobbs' intrusion and called it another case of America being the "world police", though the actual police had been quite willing to cooperate with Hobbs when they heard that Michael Myers was in their country.

Several others who had had close encounters with the supernaturally hostile had been recruited such as Charles and Joni Marshall after their story of being menaced in an old house by a sledgehammer wielding physical ghost had proven to be true when massive amounts of ectoplasm had been detected in the house; they, along with Edward Weinbauer and Alice Jarett, were the first to have been recruited for the Spiritual and Demonic Crises Division.

At the moment, Hobbs was in a rather plain and generic red pickup truck, pulling up to a curb in front of a yellow bricked two story postmodern style house. After three nights of research, he had come up with a list of several more "High Priority" recruits. There was Ashley J. Williams, whose story of the so-called "Deadites" and the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis had been proven true by the discovery of the Kandarian Dagger, a weapon stated to have been crafted by the Kandarian demons that possessed those who became Deadites; the blade was not made of nay known element.

Then there were the twins Theodore "Ted" and Dorothy "Dolly" Fitzgerald, who had told the authorities that they were the last of the "Heiwa Kīpā", who protected the human realm from the "Nikui Supirittsu", and who had gained this knowledge and their powers after their mother had been burned to death by a Nikui Supirirrsu that had possessed Teds girlfriend Sarah and took the form of a blue samurai. Their claims were proven true when a camera recorded them unlocking a jade tiger figurine that had summoned an incredibly violent feloid spirit, forcing them to activate their powers.

And then there was the man whose door they were knocking on right now. The one man known to have actually killed Jason Voorhees, and who had written several books about his experiences with the seemingly unstoppable mass murderer.

Thomas Jarvis, but everyone just called him Tommy.

The Undead Crises Division was currently understaffed in comparison to the Spiritual and Demonic Crises and Extraterrestrial Anomalies divisions, though not as understaffed as the Mutant Intervention Division. Then there was the fact that Jason Voorhees was still out there at Crystal Lake, posing a threat to anyone who ventured there despite the multiple government warnings, and there was the potential behind what they might discover with Jason Voorhees once they captured and secured him. As far as anyone knew, Tommy Jarvis was the only one who had any idea how Jason could be stopped cold.

Following Hobbs out the car were two heavily armed commandos, dressed from head to toe in black kevlar helmets and gas masks and body armor resistant to most blades as well as bullets and flames, reverse engineered from the chains that the Cenobite Pinhead had left behind when he had departed. On the left breasts of their armor was the UPEF's symbol, a white eagle tearing a snake apart with its talons. In front of the two of them was their driver, an undercover agent dressed as a postal deliveryman, holding an empty cardboard box.

"You remember what you have to do?" Hobbs asked the agent as he ringed the doorbell and the two commandos slipped into the bushes.

"Yeah" the agent plainly replied in his rather drab and nasally voice. Nodding, Hobbs slipped into the bushes with the commandos and let the agent walk up to the door. They heard the door being unlocked and went silent.

The door opened about halfway and a man who appeared to be in his early thirties peered out. Despite this, wrinkles covered his forehead and square jaw. His hazel eyes were large and beady and gazed at the agent without blinking once, and his lips were curled downwards in an almost inhumanly long frown.

"Are you Tommy Jarvis, sir?" the agent asked the man.

"Yeah. And who are you?" Tommy Jarvis asked the agent in a deep, burly voice one usually only heard in the movies.

"I work for the U.S. Postal Service. Your sister decided to send you something" the agent answered as he took out a pen. "I'll need you to sign here, at the top."

"My sister didn't say she was sending anything" Tommy muttered. He hesitantly grabbed the pen and signed his signature.

"Tommy, who is it?" a woman in the house asked.

"Some guy says my sister sent something" Tommy told her. He looked back up at the agent.

"Well, see you sir" the agent said. Tommy grumbled something as he grabbed the box, and at that moment, the agent whipped out a small gas mask and held it over his nose and mouth. Tommy saw this and his expression suddenly darkened, but it was too late. The box exploded in a pure white cloud, and he instantly fell to the ground, wheezing and sputtering.

"_TOMMY! TOMMY!_" the woman started screaming as the commandos leaped out of the bushes and sprinted into the house, holding the woman back even as her screeching increased. As the commandos restrained her, Hobbs and the agent picked up Tommy, who was quickly losing consciousness, and carried him over into the truck.

"You think this was really necessary?" the agent asked Hobbs. "I mean, any intel proving that he would be open to the job without having it beaten into him?"

"Gutierrez, this is Tommy Jarvis we're dealing with. If there's anything his shitty books have proven, it's that this guy _hates _Jason Voorhees" Hobbs explained. "If we told him we wanted Jason captured for study, he would first go off on a tirade, and then he would slam the door on us."

"Not really gonna be able to do that with two commandos."

"Once again, Gutierrez, this is Tommy Jarvis we're dealing with."

The commandos walked out of the house, seemingly having dealt with the woman, who was most likely Tommy's wife. The four of them got back in the truck and started it up.

"The woman?" Hobbs asked the commandos.

"She was restrained" one of them said in a monotone voice. Hobbs turned back to the list; the commandos were chosen partly due to the fact that they had no close family or friend connections, so they were never really social but always very blunt.

_Next:samurai ghosts. Shit, I'm actually chasing after people who fight __**fuckin' samurai ghosts**_, Hobbs thought.

_Makes a guy wish he was back behind the desk, hoping he could find a murder scene. I mean, __**samurai ghosts!**_

_**All I can say is that I hope you have a really shitfaced Bloody new year!**_


	4. More than One Way to Break a Heart

_**Took some time off from this story for other purposes (which only HR21 knows, and will not reveal). I will continue this story, though. It may take time, but I will eventually finish the story. Here, we move deeper into Freddy's plan and come to where we ended The Burning Of The Prowler (so go read that).**_

Dumbass potheads; thinking it was three days before it was Valentine's Day when it was still December. Of course, trying to start a Valentine's Day party was a big no-no for him no matter when it was being arranged. Six people had died twenty five years ago because of that commercialized asinine "holiday." Five years ago, nine more needed to be put in their place; to teach the town of Valentine Bluffs some goddamn respect for those who had perished because of February 14th.

The Miner rubbed his foggy square goggles and stared down into the water. He got to work cleaning his pickaxe. He would need to set aside some time to sharpen it; a good deal of use had really dulled his beloved while down in the mines. Some ugly burnt man had gotten smart, thinking that he could start a fight in his mines and expect to just get away with it. His pickaxe was there to remind the man that even if you were crippled-whether it be through physical tasks, the mind, or your face-you had no business being in his mines.

Except for that man in the military fatigues. Bastard had ripped The Miners pickaxe out as if though it was his and had stolen his killing blow. And yet, he had let the man live. The Miner didn't know why; the only reason that came to mind was that they shared a common enemy (the burnt man). Once he saw the soldier-esque person throw the burnt corpse into the rushing water, he knew that it was time to go. For both of them.

Strapping his pickaxe to his back, he took of his mask and placed his face under the water for ten seconds. No breathing, just letting himself drift through the fresh pond water. Was this what it was like for his victims? When people died? Did they float through a void, no sensation as they left the bindings of a mortal existence?

Peace. Eternity.

He slowly pulled his head out of the pond and placed his helmet back on. Through his goggles, the world was still hazy, small-scale. A nice filter for looking at what he did.

To the far left of the mines, deep in the low-hanging mountains of the forest, there was a lodging area. It was still intact even after years of having been abandoned like the rest of the mines. It took an hour to get there, but it was worth it; the muscles in his feet were burning, clenching and seething, ready to harden and paralyze him.

Once he arrived there, he slowly pushed the door open. With how old it was, an annoying creak echoed through the room. The Miner slowly removed his mask, pickaxe and boots. He kept the knife and nail gun on him; a necessary measure when it came tot eh area, and people like him.

"_No! Please, Harry...I, I-we found nothing wrong with the methane levels right before we left! We-!_"

The man in the mining gear seemed deaf. He stood above the supervisor, his pickaxe raised. His breath was slow and steady, and as heavy as a boulder. The pickaxe came down...

...and the supervisor caught it.

Underneath the bed, his son's look of terror changed from one of surprise to one of sheer joy in a matter of seconds. His father grabbed the pickaxe as it was about to hit him and pulled the man down onto him. Opening his mouth, the supervisor sank his teeth into the man's shoulder. A muffled, barely human scream came from the man. He was thrown off by the supervisor, who stood up and stomped on the man's stomach several times before picking up his pickaxe.

"_Come on, you can do it dad! Kill him! Stop him, dad, beat him down! Kill him now!_" his son shouted triumphantly as he left his hiding spot. His father turned to him with a smile on his face-a genuine smile. One that said he was happy to still be alive to be with his son. One that said that he wasn't going to take any of this lying down.

The supervisor raised the pickaxe...

...only for the man to catch it. But it wasn't him at all anymore. It was a twisted mockery of a human being, its flesh cooked and incinerated so the muscle was brown and seemed to have been pulled. On his head was a dusty fedora, and on his upper body was a hideous red-and-green striped sweater. And then he noticed the four-clawed glove on his right hand.

_No._

The man caught the pickaxe, stood up, and laughed triumphantly. With a singe slash, he tore through the supervisor's face and then backhanded him with the same gloved hand. Once his body hit the floor, the man looked into the boy's eyes and giggled; no person should have giggled with that borderline demonic voice.

"Even in your dreams, dad is dead!" he shouted before laughing again. What was he laughing at?! This wasn't funny! His father was dead! And he had killed him! He had torn away victory and destroyed it when it was so close, when retaliation was bearing the fruits of its labor...

The boy charged at the man with a cry of anguish. The man just sneered and kicked him down. He leaned over the sobbing boy, whose mouth was becoming filled with blood.

"Come on, get your ass up!" he barked. Any pretenses of happiness and affability had been dropped. He dragged his razors along the boy's throat.

"Stand up, you goddamn brat! If you want to still breathe and speak, I suggest you do as I say and _**GET UP!**_"

The boy grabbed the floor and slowly, achingly, pushed himself up onto his feet. With his eyes full of hatred and loss, he stared at the man. He presented the pickaxe to him.

"Take it, you moron!"

The boy grabbed the mining tool and clenched the handle. The man let go and stepped back. His grim came back to life, more wicked and crude than before, and he let loose another inhuman laugh.

He was taller now; heavier, thanks to the equipment on him. His breathing was much heavier and raspier. The boy was no longer a boy, but society wouldn't call him a man either. He was what they feared, hated and sneered at. He was The Miner.

"Look at you, trying to dream of being normal! As if though this somehow wasn't your real skin! Your real breath" the man mocked. "You and me, we're the same thing. The exact same blood runs through our veins. Don't deny what you are!"

The Miner glared at him through the goggles. Who was this man to say that they were alike? He knew who this man was, and he had learned what he had done. Compared to that, The Miner's own murders were like petty vandalism.

"Oh come on, what are you just standing there and staring at me for? You know who I am, right?" the man asked out of annoyance. The Miner nodded.

"Damn right you do" he laughed for the hundredth time. The Miner's nerves were getting fed up with that brutish noise.

"And to think that a fucking normie like McVeigh was considered the deadliest criminal in the history of Okie City. But that's how history is made. You have to surpass others to reach your goals; to set records. And me? Why, I now have the highest body count amongst all domestic terror-"

The Miner had had enough of his disgusting bragging and punched him in the jaw. The man's fedora flew off as his head twisted to the side and he loudly fell. But this was the dream world. The man immediately got back up and slammed him to the wall without even laying a finger on him.

"Now, you listen to me, you trunk-faced piece of emotional _shit!_" the man snarled, slowly inching closer to The Miner, his razor claws menacingly outstretched. Although The Miner was able to move and struggle, it was utterly useless; this was the man's world, and if he wanted him to be bound to the wall itself, then he could do it.

"I have a job for you down in America" he continued. "You Canadians probably know who Jason Voorhees is. Big, retarded manchild down at Crystal Lake. Wears a hockey mask. And do you know what I want? I want him killed. _By you. _You are going to rip that son of a bitch's head clean off his shoulders, and you will present it before me."

"Now, you're probably thinking, "Well what's in it for me?" Because I know how selfish people like you are. Always trying to fix mistakes. But if you kill Jason Voorhees, you will be able to fix one big mistake. Kill him, and you get the power to bring your old man back to life. And I'll make sure it doesn't stop there. If you want it, I'll give both of you the ability to destroy the holiday of Valentine's. Crush it. Annihilate it. Any man, woman, or child that tries to celebrate the damned day will suffer a..."broken heart.""

The man laughed _again_.

"So now I'm gonna ask you-what do you say?"

The Miner was released and fell to the floor. His body trembling and aching, he looked up and stared at the man. He didn't like him one bit, and he certainly wasn't going to be anyone's pawn. But if he could control the whole world of dreams, then what stopped him from sharing such power?

He hated himself for doing it for this animal...but slowly, surely, The Miner nodded his head.

"Terrific!" the man shouted as he clapped his hands together. "Simply terrific! You know where to go-Camp Crystal Lake, down in New Jersey. It'll be a long way down there, but the reward will greatly exceed the cost. Consider it this way-when you kill Voorhees, you take his power. With your father at your side, you will be a god among men. The whole Earth will realize this, and they'll have no other option but to prostrate themselves before you. But alas, I must go now. Come back when you have a hockey mask in tow!"

And with that, The Mine woke up. He looked down at his mask.

It was time to show up for work again.

00000000000000000

Even a desolate camp could look beautiful with its unmolested foliage and the sun beaming down. Even something that had been long abandoned could retain a certain magnificence; it was the exodus of humanity that inspired art. Nature's reclamation could surpass even the greatest monuments and skyscrapers at it's finest.

For Cropsy, facing Jason Voorhees at an abandoned campground wasn't really that beautiful. It was more along the lines of pants-shittingly terrifying. Here he was, some burnt nobody against a man with a body count in excess of one hundred fifty. And more than a foot taller than him, to boot. He had hedge trimmers, Voorhees had not just a machete, but anything he could get his bare hands on. And the bare hands, too.

_And _Voorhees was undead.

With surprising speed and unsurprising ferocity, Jason Voorhees charged right at him. Cropsy could only pray that the trimmers were able to penetrate a hockey mask.

_**Short? Why yes it is. Still, at least I've managed to publish this on Halloween. Hopefully, none of you have been gutted, beheaded, skinned, bludgeoned, immolated, or neck-snapped by a hulking lunatic in a William Shatner mask. If you have, then the mask better be white. If it's a regular William Shatner mask...then that dude's doing it wrong.**_


End file.
